The Immortal Three
by Homura Kagari
Summary: When three teenagers are confronted with their newfound immortality, it is left to one irish immortal to keep the three alive long enough to keep their heads
1. He Remembers Forgotten Beauty

(Disclaimer for the Entire Story: I make no claim to the Highlander franchise, universe, or any of its characters. Any of my own characters in this story belong solely to me, and I reserve all the rights to them. Also, I have a tendency to use quotes or poetry to begin some chapters, the authors of which are cited beneath each quote or poem, as I have no claim to them. Note for previous readers – I originally published this story under another account under the name Colin McIntyre. I'd forgotten the email I used to access this account – yeah, I know stupid – and now that I'm back and I found where I'd written this one down, I decided to move everything over here. Sorry for any inconvenience.)

**Chapter 1**

**He Remembers Forgotten Beauty**

When my arms wrap you round I press

My heart upon the loveliness

That has long faded from the world;

The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled

In shadowy pools, when armies fled;

The love-tales wrought with silken thread

By dreaming ladies upon cloth

That has made fat the murderous moth;

The roses that of old time were

Woven by ladies in their hair,

The dew-cold lilies ladies bore

Through many a sacred corridor

Where such grey clouds of incense rose

That only God's eyes did not close:

For that pale breast and lingering hand

Come from a more dream-heavy land,

A more dream-heavy hour than this;

And when you sigh from kiss to kiss

I hear white Beauty sighing, too,

For hours when all must fade like dew,

But flame on flame, and deep on deep,

Throne over throne where in half sleep,

Their swords upon their iron knees,

Brood her high lonely mysteries.

-W.B. Yeats

The sun rose up over the grassy knoll, casting a rosy light over the fields beneath. Waves moved through the fields as a breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of nature; the scent of the forests and the earth, of the grass and the trees, of freedom. A long shadow cast itself across the hills, the silhouette of a lone man. His black duster flapped in the breeze, snapping as the wind forced it back, trailing behind the figure. Across his back, hidden normally by the coat, was a blade, a long double-edged bastard sword, its pommel shining with the light of the morn. The young man's long hair whipped behind him as if with a life of its own, glistening with the golden color of grain in the morning light. His deep blue eyes shone with the love one has for his country, and twinkled with memories of summers spent in those same fields, under the same blue sky. He smiled, breathing in the smells of his homeland, knowing that soon, he would have to leave the land he loved behind once again. But for those few moments, for that brief second, he was at peace.

A car's horn blared from behind the man, breaking the quiet of his reverie. He turned, looking down at the road that passed beneath the hill. _Even at dawn, _he thought,_ I thought it would be quieter at dawn. _The man breathed out a long sigh, the sigh of a man aged beyond his years, of one who had seen much, and been a part of much, much more. _I remember a time where there was no road. Where the only paths were those we made ourselves or those left behind by the Romans after they were gone. These days, there's a road to take you wherever you want to go. Is it good that humanity is that much closer together, or have we lost the meaning in the journey? _The man groaned, half laughing. _Either I'm too old or too young to deal with this._

Turning one last time to say goodbye to his homeland, the young man leapt, landing at the base of the hill, stopping next to the black body of his Jaguar convertible. Smiling, the young man jumped into the driver's seat and revved the engine, checking only that his gear was still in the back seat. Leaving the top down, he took off, letting the car's engine race, feeling it as an extension of himself. He felt the wind through his hair and the exhilarating rush that the roaring speed brought him. For that was the Quickening.

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"We then take the chi-squared value using the combined sum of the observed values minus the expected values squared, divided by . . . ."

Holli let the monotonous voice of Ms. Nicholson roll off, staring out the window at the grass on the lawns of the school. She sighed, missing the sunny weather from California where she had grown up. This was the first glimpse of sunlight they had had since summer. _Why exactly did we move to Washington?_ she thought, for what felt like the thousandth time. A California native, she would have looked more at home on a southern beach than in the wettest state in America. Her shoulder-length, light blond hair and olive skin, set off by expressive blue-green eyes, dark brows and full lips, and accompanied by an excellent figure, made it easy to picture her lounging on a beach with a book or going for a swim.

_Well, at least all the rain helps the flowers grow. _The cherry blossom trees in the Horticulture gardens had bloomed over the weekend, creating patches of pink surrounded by the ever-present evergreens. Taking a second look, she realized someone was sleeping underneath one of the trees, his legs propped up against one of the roots, a broad-brimmed hat pulled down across his face. Squinting, she thought she recognized the new exchange student from Ireland who had arrived last week. _Does he have an open period or something?_ It wasn't uncommon for juniors or seniors to drop an elective for an open period, but not in the middle of the day. _Oh well, maybe he's skipping. But skipping class just to take a nap?_ Suddenly, the boy reached up and lifted his hat a bit, just enough to show his face. He then turned his head straight towards her and tipped his hat slightly in greeting. Holli gasped slightly, it was impossible for him to have seen her, the Horticulture building was too far away from the main school campus. Wasn't it?

"Heaton? Heaton? Ms. Heaton, do you mind?"

"Huh? Uh, yes Ms. Nicholson?"

"The answer, Ms. Heaton, if you're not too preoccupied."

Grimacing mentally, Holli looked at the Smart board at the front of the classroom. She absolutely _hated_ statistics, but she was still able to muddle through it more often than not. "Uh, the chi-squared value is twenty-one and since the data gives us seven degrees of freedom," she said, checking the table in front of her, "We get a P-value of approximately .005, which is below a significance level of ninety-nine percent or an alpha level of .01, which demonstrates significant evidence to refute the null hypothesis."

"Good work, Heaton. Glad to see _someone_ is paying attention," Ms. Nicholson sniped, pointedly looking at Holli's friend Michael Nevin before turning back to her Smart board. Michael smirked at the teacher's remark, lifting his hands in a silent applause of Holli's quick thinking. Michael was a good-looking junior with dark brown hair, the length of which varied constantly, and clever green eyes flecked with brown twinkling out from beneath the brim of one of his many hats. The hat of the day this time was a black fedora with a colored stripe running along the bottom of the sides.

Holli smiled slightly, jokingly accepting his praise, and turned back to her window, only to find the solitary young man gone from beneath the tree. _Maybe the school cop or one of the administrators found him, _she wondered somewhat reluctantly, he had given her something to do at least. Shivering, she tried to forget the feeling that he had seen her. _I could just barely make him out, how could he have seen me watching him? _Sighing deeply, she turned back to the front of the classroom, opening her notebook to jot down the equation to yet another insignificant significance test.

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"So, what was that all about?" asked Michael as they left the class.

"What was what about?" she answered, distracted. That feeling at the window still bothered her. _Could he have seen me?_

"You're a model student who, despite hating statistics, has an A in the class. You're not the daydreaming type. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just thought I saw something. It's nothing important."

Michael nodded, accepting her reluctance to talk about it. Whatever was bothering her was her business. "Anyway, the assembly's gonna start if we don't get going."

"Assembly? There's another one today? We just had one on Monday for ASB elections."

"Yeah, this one's for Spring Sports or something. It's not like it matters much, seeing as we almost always lose. You remember the story. A kid with abusive parents gets taken to a custody hearing and the judge asks which parent he wants to go with. He says 'Well, my mom beats me, so I don't want to go with her. My dad beats me too, so I don't really want to go live with him either. So I'm going to live at Southlake High School, because they don't beat anybody.'"

Holli smiled wryly. Southlake High School – with its motto of Sincerity, Humanity, Scholarship – had the _worst_ major sports teams in the entire Bellevue school district. Their football was abysmal, the baseball was mediocre at best, and their soccer team made goals into their own net more often than in the other team's. The school did have a decent record for less mainstream sports like badminton and girl's golf, for which they were the district champions. "At least the Chess and Knowledge Bowl teams have won something this year."

"Yeah, it sucks if you actually _like_ sports though," came the voice of Holli's freshman brother, Kyle, from behind them. Kyle's yellow-blond hair created a bird's nest of curls that fell into his grey eyes. He had the same natural tan that Holli did, and his thin, muscular physique had made him the male heartthrob of most of the freshman girls.

"Well, at least the drill team performance will be good. I heard they made it to state," commented Michael, as the three entered into the gymnasium. They pushed and wiggled their way through the crowd until they got to the bleachers. Michael immediately started talking to one of the guys next to him as people slowly started to find seats.

Suddenly, Holli felt a chill go through her. Her head snapped up and around, her eyes finally coming to rest on the Irish exchange student. Smiling, he tipped his hat to her again, then turned and took his seat.

"If you'll all take your seats," came the voice of the new school counselor over the room's sound system, "We can get the assembly started." They had gotten through the national anthem and were in the middle of the drill team show, when Kyle leaned over and asked "When did we get the new counselor again?"

"Last week, I think," stated Michael before turning back to his friend on his left.

"What is it?" questioned Holli, looked at her brother inquisitively. She was the older sister for a reason; she could always tell when something was bothering her brother.

"Nothing, really. I just got called down to his office two days ago. He had to ask me about my schedule for next year or something. It's just, his eyes seemed empty, like he didn't have any emotion at all. It creeped me out." Looking over at the new counselor, _What was his name . . . Mr. Gints? _Holli jumped when she saw he was looking, not at the drill team performance, but at the three of them. She couldn't say how she knew, she just did, somehow.

At that moment, the fire alarm went of, startling everyone in the auditorium. Teachers tried in vain to keep things orderly as students rushed for the exits, trying to get out as fast as possible. Students milled around the doors, rushing to escape outside as the alarm rose in intensity. The three started moving, only to end up at the back of the mass of people pushing to get out.

"This way," shouted a voice off to Holli's left. Turning, they saw the new counselor, Mr. Gints, holding open a side door behind one of the bleachers. Moving quickly, the three of them ran for the door, expected to hear the pounding of feet behind them as other students tried to get out as well. However, once they had entered the hall, all they heard was a loud click as the door shut. Holli spun around to see Mr. Gints lounging back against the now locked door, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Well, it's not exactly what I came here for, but three newborns isn't a bad catch either," he cackled with a slight Southern accent, reaching inside his coat and pulling out a long cavalry saber. Grinning, he struck, his sword moving like lightning, leaving a long slash across Michael's chest, knocking him back into a wall, where he slumped, lifeless. The man spun, his sword whipping around to cleave through Kyle's shoulder, slashing through him from neck to hip, as easily as slicing a piece of bread. Then, Holli felt a strange push, and wetness from her side. Looking down, she saw his sword had gone straight through her, and collapsed.

"Sorry darlings, just a part of the Game," laughed Gints, as her vision blurred, and everything went black.

Her body spasmed as she woke, twitching as she breathed deeply, her starved lungs gasping for air. Panting, she looked around, seeing Michael and Kyle also start to move. She looked down, only to see a bloodstained shirt over healthy skin, as if there had been no wounds at all. _Did it heal? _"How is this possible?" she wondered aloud.

"Who knows," Mr. Gints growled in his slight Southern drawl, "It doesn't really matter. Now it's time for you to die. For good this time." Holli raised her arms to cover her head as Gints hefted his blade, swinging directly at her neck. She closed her eyes, waiting for the feel of the steel biting into her throat, but it never came. Instead, a loud clang came from her left. Opening her eyes, she saw the exchange student standing in front of her, a large broadsword in one hand, blocking Gints' blow.

"Ye really think I'm about ta let ya do that boyo?" the young man laughed as he whipped his arm up, forcing Gints backwards. The two stepped away from each other, settling into fighting stances as naturally as if they had been doing it for hundreds of years.

"This is none of your affair," snarled Gints, his accent deepening as his temper worsened, "Ah'm going to have their heads. Now get out of my way."

"Ya can't just kill 'em. It'd be like killin' babes," the young man scoffed, still smiling, "Now leave before I lose mah temper."

Furious, Gints charged, his saber flashing towards the boy's neck. Smiling, the blond young man spun to the side with the grace of a cat, the sword almost lazily slicing through the air, then flipped backwards, landing lightly on his feet. Gints howled, and it took Holli a moment to notice why. The boy had severed Gints' right hand, slicing it off at the wrist.

"I've at least six hundred years on ye, Gints. If I were ye, I'd give up before I lost mah head."

"Ah'll kill you!" shouted Gints, anger twisting his face into a mask of rage. He grabbed his sword from his lost hand, then swung wildly at the boy. Smiling sadly, the boy flipped over Gints' back, his sword flashing like steel lightning, landing next to Holli. In his left hand was Gints' left arm, cut off at the elbow. Gints screamed in rage and pain, and dived out a nearby window, shattering the glass as he left. The boy threw and arm and sword out after him, wiping his blade on what was left of Gints' sleeve before sliding back beneath his black coat.

"Are y'alright, then?" he asked, his Irish accent coloring his words as he spoke.

"Who . . . what . . . how . . . ." stammered Holli, still shocked by what had just happened.

The young man smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, "I am Colin McIntyre, and I cannot die. And now, neither can you."


	2. Warrior of the Emerald Isle

**Chapter 2**

**Warrior of the Emerald Isle**

"We don't have time to waste asking for things we don't have. We can only look for the best way to fight with the things we do have, for our whole life."

– Hiruma Youichi

"I am Colin McIntyre, and I cannot die. And now, neither can you."

Colin smiled as he held out his hand, lifting Holli to her feet. "We need to get you all outa here," he said calmly as he lifted Kyle and Michael onto his shoulders, "Gints was clever enough to actually set the building on fire. Your corpses would have been blamed on the 'accident,' not 'im." Kicking open the door at the other end of the hall, he burst into the main hall outside the gymnasium, running just slow enough for Holli to keep up. The came around the corner to find the cafeteria ablaze, the back doors blocked off by a wall of flame. Colin grimaced, placing Michael and Kyle on the ground. Pulling off his long coat, he let it fall over Holli's head, protecting her from the worst effects of the fire. "Follow me," he said, "And keep up."

Colin turned, and lifting the two boys as if they weighed nothing at all, ran straight through the flames as easily as a child playing in the surf. The flames didn't even seem to touch him as he carried the three through the scorching heat and blinding smoke. Closing her eyes, Holli ran behind him, clutching his coat around her and expecting to feel the burning heat of the fire against her legs. Looking down, she saw that for about a foot behind Colin, the fire had gone out as if completely smothered. After he passed, the flames rushed back in, as if trying to reclaim lost territory. Following him as closely as she could, Holli ran forward, feeling only the heat from the flames to either side and the hot ground beneath her feet.

Suddenly, the heat was gone. Opening her eyes, Holli saw they had made it outside. Anxious to get away from the flames, the two kept running until they reached the school's back parking lot.

"I know you must've questions, but it'd be better if you waited till we got a little farther from this place," said Colin, coughing slightly from the smoke in his lungs, "Plus, the little one's not healing, so he hasn't died yet. We might just save him from his first death, if we hurry."

Understanding only that they had been saved by this strange young man and that her brother was in danger, Holli nodded, still shocked by what she had seen. Colin grunted, lifting the two boys back onto his shoulders as he carried them across the lot to a black convertible near the exit. He placed Michael in the passenger seat before laying Kyle in the back, placing a blanket on his chest. Holding the back door open for Holli, he said, "Keep pressure on his wound. It looks fairly shallow, but we want to stop as much bleeding as possible." Rushing into the car, Holli grabbed the blanket, pushing down as hard as she could without hurting her brother. Colin closed the door and hopped into the front, wasting no time in starting the car and speeding out of the deserted lot. Hitting the outside road, Colin began to drive North, smashing the accelerator as soon as he was on the open road.

Michael bolted upright in the front seat, gasping for air. Looking around wildly, he saw a blond man about his age driving. _Driving what? _he thought. _Where the hell am I? _Panicking, he reached for the wheel as if to wrest control of the car away from the young man. Before he'd moved so much as an inch, the driver's hand flew up, holding the boy back. Michael struggled as hard as he could but, unable to budge the arm as much as an inch, he collapsed back into his seat.

"If ya don't want us to crash out here," the blond driver drawled, not even looking at the boy, "You should probably make like the lass in back. At least she's making her self useful." Looking behind him, he saw Holli holding a mass of cloth over an unconscious Kyle.

"Is he okay?" asked Michael, kicking himself as he said it. _That was moronic; of course he's not okay_.

"He'll live," commented the driver, and Michael felt the car begin to slow, "He should be fine in a few days, which is more than I can saw for the two of you." Turning around, Michael saw the car pulling up a gravel slope into a forested drive, ending at a strange house in the middle of the woods. The house was large, almost a mansion in size, with a blue-green shingled, sloping roof and white and brown wood paneling on the walls outside. It looked about two stories, with a third level peeking over the top of the house. Small figures decorated the edges of the roof, looking down over the area as if they were watching for intruders.

The driver stopped the car in front of the house, jumping out and taking Kyle's limp form from Holli as gently as possible. Maintaining pressure, he carried him into the house, followed closely by Holli. Michael stepped out, stumbling a little as he walked towards the house. _How long was I out?_ _I remember the alarm going off during the assembly. Gints opening a door for us, and then, nothing. _Looking down, he saw his shirt was torn nearly in half, the shoulders just barely held together by a two-inch strip of cloth. A long rip went from his left collar bone to his right hip, ending at the hem of the shirt. _What the heck? _Michael thought, before the scene in the hall flashed before his eyes. He'd seen Gints pull out a sword or something and attack them. He'd felt the edge cut through him. _But then, why aren't I dead? And who's the blond guy? _Confused, and not a little scared, he slowly stepped into the house.

Holli watched as Colin ripped open her brother's shirt, moving quickly to clean the wound. He'd carried Kyle into a room off of the main hallway and laid him on a table as he grabbed a bag from an overhead cupboard. Dumping it onto the table, he'd pulled out a couple colored bottles and large roll of gauze. Grimacing, he splashed liquid from a large black bottle, cleaning the wound as best he could before applying another liquid to the wound.

Holli leaned back against the wall behind her, sliding down to the floor as her legs gave way from the shock and stress of what had happened. Breathing deeply, she went over it again in her mind, trying to find some sort of sense to all of what had happened. None of it made any sense. She had seen Gints stab her, but she didn't have so much as a scar. He'd sliced Michael like a fish, but he'd woken up as if he had just been knocked unconscious. _And what did he mean 'I can't die?' _Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Colin standing over her, smiling slightly.

"He'll be fine," he murmured softly, "I'm going to put him in one of my guest rooms. Do you want to stay with him?"

Holli nodded, overcome by relief for her brother's safety. She let Colin help her to her feet and followed as he carried her brother into another room, laying him down on a large, ornate bed. She pulled a chair close to the bed as Colin left, holding her brother's hand in her own, and prayed.

Colin closed the door behind him as he left, deciding that the pair probably needed some privacy right about then. Going back down into the kitchen, he began to clean up after his impromptu operation. He'd rolled up his sleeves and just started to wash the table, when he felt someone enter the room. Without looking or pausing in his work, he said simply "There's soda in the fridge if ya want one."

"Thanks," he heard Michael's slightly deeper voice from behind him.

He continued to clean, listening for the telltale intake of breath that would show when Michael would ask what any new Immortal would.

"What . . . ." Michael began, before Colin cut him off.

"I know you've got questions. But since there's three of you, I was hopin' you'd wait till tomorrow, so I don't have to repeat myself." Michael's silence was confirmation enough. Finally turning, Colin reached past Michael into the fridge, pulling out a bronze- colored glass bottle and popping the cap.

"Beer?" inquired Michael, his voice holding a slightly disapproving edge.

"Hard cider," he managed while taking a long sip, "I could never stand American beer. Much too weak for my tastes." Smiling, he took another sip, then set down the bottle. "There's a room next to the one Kyle's in. You can stay there for the time being."

Stretching, he left the kitchen, wandering through one of the house's many hallways. "The names Colin, by the way," he called out as he rounded a corner, and vanished from view.

Michael shook his head as the young man left. He'd sounded so old right then, as if he'd been around long enough to know what Michael was about to say before he'd said it. Finishing his soda, he dropped the can in a nearby bin and went down the hallway that went to Kyle's room. Looking around, he realized the house was like no other he'd ever seen. The floors were all of a red-tinged wood, with off-white walls, some of which seemed to be made only of paper screens over a wooden frame. Pushing one slightly, he felt it give, and it slid to the left, revealing a glass sliding door behind. _Interesting idea,_ he thought, _the paper screen can be opened to see outside without opening the door, or closed to preserve privacy. Like curtains, but less hassle._ Wandering down the hallway, he came a door just past the room Colin had put Kyle in.

Opening the door, he found a room similarly designed, with another paper screen sliding door set into the rear wall that Michael assumed opened onto another outside view. Looking around, he saw that the room had a distinctly oriental feeling to it, with a bed that was mostly a mattress placed on the floor, and selves holding books featuring Asian characters and small trees, the same size as those from The Karate Kid. _What had they been called? Bonsai trees? _Pulling off his shirt, Michael fell into the bed, only just feeling the exhaustion from the day sweep over him. Just barely able to pull up the covers, he fell asleep the second his head touched the pillows.

Holli woke the next morning to find herself slumped over her brother, still clutching his hand. Watching, she saw his chest rise and fall with his breathing, and sighed with relief. _Colin was right. He is going to be okay._ Stretching, she loosened the muscles in her back that had gone stiff from a night spent sleeping in a hard-backed chair. The smell of food cooking wafted in under the shut door, making her realize just how hungry she really was. Careful not to wake her brother, she slipped out of the room, following her nose to the source of the wonderful smell. She came into the kitchen to find Colin, wrapped in a long red bathrobe, cooking a large plate of eggs. She took a good look at him for the first time since he had appeared during the fire. He was somewhat tall, maybe only an inch or two taller than Michael, who was a head taller than she was, with bright blue eyes and slightly mussed blond hair pulled haphazardly back into a ponytail. He was slightly tanned, and his face bore the sort of thin beard a young man grows in an attempt to appear older.

"So, how do you like your eggs?" he asked, his Irish accent blending the words together as he spoke.

"Scrambled," she replied, still struck by the odd contrast between the sword-wielding young man she had seen the day before and this highly domestic scene. Smiling, Colin grabbed another egg, cracking it with the ease of someone well practiced in the task.

"What, having breakfast without me?" joked Michael as he wandered into the kitchen, the smell having woken him as well. He joined Holli at the table as Colin dished out breakfast. The three settled into an only slightly uncomfortable silence, focusing on their food, instead of each other. Midway through the meal, Colin pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms back as he prepared a speech he had given many, many times.

"Which question first?" he asked, smiling at their restraint in not having already bombarded him with questions.

Holli grimaced, putting down her knife and fork, as she cleared her throat. "What are you?"

Colin cocked his head in surprise. That was a new first question. "I am Colin McIntyre. I was born in Ireland in 1016 A.D. That makes me nine-hundred and nine years old in two months. I am immortal. I cannot die."

Holli nodded, almost as she had expected an answer like this. Michael simply looked as if Colin had suddenly grown a second head. "And we're the same as you." It was a statement, not a question. Colin knew his next few words would decide how the rest of this conversation went. Breathing deeply, he pulled a knife from the kitchen counter. Running it along his arm, he left a long, shallow cut. After a few seconds, the wound began to close, and after Colin had wiped the blood off his arm, the cut had healed completely. He placed the knife in the middle of the table. "You wanna try?"

Holli picked up the knife first, imitating Colin's action, with the same results. _She looks almost sad,_ thought Colin as he watched her. _I've seen anger, wonder, even glee after a healing, but sad's a new one for me._Michael was next, pricking the tip of his finger as an alternative. The fascination on his face as the wound closed was as clear as day. "Does this mean we can't die either? We'll live _forever_?" he leaned forward, captivated by the promise of eternal life.

Colin smiled sadly, remembering his own excitement when he had been told of his own immortality. "We heal from any wound, and we suffer no disease. Poisons work, but we come back just the same. We die for a little while, then come back to life. Drowning, strangling, suffocation, internal injuries. All heal without any sign of a wound. 'Cept around the neck area. But," and here Colin paused, leaning forward, "We can die. But only if someone takes off your head. "

"So that was what Gints was trying to do." Holli calmly stated.

"There are good and there are bad immortals. Some of us were heros in past lives, other were murderers and conquerors. We are men, women, elders, children, people of all races and creeds. Our only common trait is our immortality."

"Why did Gints try to kill us?" objected Michael, "We weren't a threat to him. We didn't even know."

Colin sighed, knowing this was the part where things got complicated _fast_. "When an immortal kills another immortal, he experiences the Quickening. The survivor takes all the power and knowledge of the loser. The last immortal left standing gets the Prize. If an evil immortal wins, the world will plunge into darkness. If a decent one wins, well that's harder to predict. That's 'the Game.'"

Holli stood from the table, the chair falling over from her sudden movement. "I don't know about this 'Game' or whatever you call it. But I'm not going to go around chopping off people's heads. I appreciate you saving us from that psycho, but it's time I took my brother home."


	3. A New Beginning

**Chapter 3**

**A New Beginning**

All that is necessary for evil to succeed is that good men do nothing.

– Edmund Burke

The drive back to the sibling's home passed in silence as the sun rose higher in the sky. Kyle tried vainly to sleep in the back seat, wincing as each bump in the road pained him. The morning sun splintered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, blending into a dappled mosaic of green mottled with rays of yellow summer light. Holli sat by Kyle, occasionally supporting him as the movements of the car jostled the wounded boy. Michael sat next to Colin, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye when he though Colin wasn't looking. He was much more curious about his newfound immortality than Holli, and likely the only reason he held his tongue was Colin's promise to answer his questions after dropping off the other two. At least he behaved like a normal newfound immortal. Holli acted as if it was unimportant or uninteresting; as if her new abilities were nothing out of the ordinary. Colin couldn't tell if she was simply in shock over what had happened or if she was simply that level-headed. Either way, it promised more trouble for the Irish immortal.

Following Holli's instructions, he pulled the car onto a road made of packed dirt, riding through what seemed like a normal residential street, if most residential areas had three-story houses with a wide belt of space between them and were surrounded by trees. Pulling up to the last house on the left, he parked the car a good distance from the house, hoping to get in one last warning before the siblings abandoned his protection. The second he stopped the car, Holli began to bundle her brother, preparing to get out as quickly as possible.

"You cannot escape the Gathering, girl. No matter how far you run or hide, it will find you."

"Then I'll just have to lay low, won't I?" she replied, lifting her brother's arm over her shoulders to help him out of the car.

"And that worked so well with your school counselor didn't it?" Colin observed wryly, "Others like him will follow you until either you're dead or they are. That's the price for living forever."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," she said stubbornly. Hitching her brother's arm higher over her shoulders, she turned to face Michael, who still sat in the passenger seat of the black Jag, "You should go home too, Michael."

Michael barked a laugh as he sunk back into the leather seat. "I don't have anything to go home to. This sounds . . . interesting."

Holli's face betrayed no emotion Colin could see, if anything, it looked as if she had expected Michael's answer. Slowly moving, she turned to face the house and take her brother home. And the house exploded. Fire climbed into the crowns of the trees as flaming wood and shingles scattered through the woods, striking trunks, branches, and nearby houses. Bricks flew through the air as if shot from cannons while metal shapes twisted beyond recognition crashed to the ground. Holli screamed, and Colin found himself holding her back from the flames, without realizing he had moved. Pushing her towards Michael, he ran into the flames, looking to find any sign of those who had called this their home, hoping for a miracle, but expecting the worst.

Michael grabbed Holli as soon as Colin threw her to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she shrieked, flailing in his arms in her attempt to get inside the house. She beat at him with her arms, her frenzied blows landing wildly as she fought his hold. Michael held her, unmoving until she collapsed into his arms, spent from her panic. He held her awkwardly as she slumped in his arms, standing only due to the help of his arms around her. Michael watched as Colin rushed into the flames, leaping into the flames without concern.

It felt like an eternity later when Colin climbed out of the wreckage, his coat singed and covered in charcoal and dust, beating out the flames that sprouted from one sleeve. His face was dark with soot as he limped over to where Michael and the others sat, Kyle slumped against the car's front tires. Holli broke free of Michael's loosened grip, rushing at Colin, tripping over the fallen debris. Colin caught her as she fell, the soot from the fire hiding any expression he might have had. Even from that distance, Michael could see the unsaid question in Holli's eyes. He watched helplessly as Colin reached into his pocket and pulled out his hand, opening his palm as an answer to the young girl. The firelight glinted off two rings sitting in Colin's soot-blacked hand. A cry emanated throughout the area, a howl of rage and pain of someone who has lost everything. Kyle's scream resounded through the woods, and Holli rushed to him, her own pain momentarily forgotten in her role as the elder sister. Holding his head against her shoulders, she rocked slightly, her responsibility as the eldest overcoming her own loss. Colin's eyes met Michael's as he stepped towards the car, pulling off his long coat and hurling it behind him into the flames.

"We need to get out of here," said Colin as he came to stand next to Michael, "We don't want to be here when the cops arrive."

Later, Michael would never be able to fully recall the events of that day. He would remember helping Colin bundle the two grieving siblings into the car and car moving at speeds he had never gone before. He could not have said if it was minutes of hours later when they arrived back at Colin's house, and had helped the two siblings into the house. He found himself standing in the kitchen, leaning against the oven, not remembering how or why he was there. Looking down at his hands, he found them covered in grime from the explosion. Needing something to do, he washed them in the sink, feeling almost as if in a trance, knowing the movements his body made, but seeing them as if performed by another person. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he splashed water into his face, and stood there, dripping into the sink, his arms just managing to hold him upright. Behind him, he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. Switching off the faucet before turning, he saw Colin enter the room, his face still black. Throwing the immortal a hand towel, Michael slumped into a nearby chair, his whole body aching as if he had just run several marathons. Colin grunted appreciation as he wiped his face and hands, dropping the now ruined towel into the garbage before also dropping into one of the chairs. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Michael simply feeling empty, hearing Colin's much calmer breathing creating the only sound in the room.

"How are they?" he managed, his voice sounding loud after the exhausted silence.

"Sedated. I keep a good supply of medicines here, just in case I need to care for anyone else's wounds. I have the feeling they needed it."

"What was that?"

"That was Gint's work," Colin said sadly, as if each word pained him, "He was well known as a terrorist in the 1800s. Only he wasn't called a terrorist, he was hailed as a _loyalist_!" Colin spat the word, his now-clean face showing his disgust for the entire concept. "From what I've heard, he died during the Civil War, and spent the years afterwards killing off newly-freed African Americans in his zeal to 'clean' the South. He was a Klan member, an outspoken racist, and hated anyone not white and Protestant." Colin slammed his fist into the table, causing it to shake from the blow. "I should have known he would pull something like this. He failed to take your heads, so he decided to have his revenge on the families." Looking at Michael as if with newfound realization, he asked "Your family?"

Michael shook his head, too beaten down by the events of the day to do much else. "I'm an emancipated minor. I got tired of being sent from foster home to foster home, so I decided to just take care of myself. He can blow up my apartment for all I care."

"Well, that solves _one_ problem," began Colin as Michael heard more footsteps coming down the hall. He swiveled to see Holli supporting a limping Kyle into the room. Looking back at Colin's face, he was unable to see any surprise at the failure of his medicine, or anything at all for that matter, other than a strange, almost sad glint to his eyes.

"Why?" croaked Kyle, "Why did this happen?"

"Because you are immortals. The first brother-sister pair I've ever heard of. And even though you still haven't died your first death, boy, it wasn't for Gint's lack of trying. In saving you, I stole Gint's prize catch. That was his way of punishing you for surviving."

"How? You cut off both his hands," stated Holli accusingly.

Michael's head turned to look at Colin so fast he heard his neck crack. How could Gints have blown up a house with no hands? Could immortals heal _that _much?

"I thought it would be punishment enough for him to lose one hand. I threw his left arm back out after him. If we lose a limb, we lose it permanently, but if the wound is still fresh when we die, and the limb is next to the stump, it can reattach."

Michael hadn't seen Kyle move, but the next thing he saw was Kyle grabbing the front of Colin's shirt before his legs collapsed from the strain of his wound. "Why," he shouted, "Why, if you knew what he was?"

"It wasn't my fight. It was yours. With only his left hand, I figured it would take him a while to recover, and by the time he came back, one of you would be ready to take him on. I was clearly wrong."

Michael saw Kyle shaking, with rage or pain, physical or emotional, he couldn't tell. "Teach me to fight. Let me kill . . . ."

"No," Colin cut him off briskly, "I'll teach you to fight, but you ain't immortal yet. You would stand no chance against him. The one who kills him will be one of you two," he looked at Holli and Michael in turn, his gaze seeming to go straight through them, before it settled back on Kyle. "You're still mortal, and it'd be better to wait as long as possible before your first death." From the look on Kyle's face, he seemed to be ready to argue, but Colin kept going, "Immortals don't age, boyo. Unless you want to be fifteen for several hundred years, I'd hold off your first death until at least your late twenties."

"Then you _will_ teach us to fight?" asked Michael, finally entering the conversation, "You'll teach us to beat Gints?"

"And others. But that's up to you." Colin looked at Holli directly, his eyes not moving from hers, "Are you willing to play the Game?"

"It seems like I don't have much choice now, doesn't it?" she said, glaring right back. Standing, she marched from the room, helping her younger brother along.


	4. A Graceful Sword

(Yey! This is my first 'new' chapter in after quite a while.

Hope you guys like reading it as much as I did writing it.)

**Chapter 4:**

**A Graceful Sword**

Holli wandered through the dark hallways of the house, a blanket clutched around her shoulders, as much for comfort as warmth. Colin's last words from the night before still echoed through her head. _Are you willing to play the Game?_ _Was_ she willing to take others' heads? Gints, definitely Gints. But what about others? A whistling noise jolted her into wakefulness. Curious, she followed the noise through the sunrise-lit halls, finally coming to a Japanese sliding door.

Pushing it aside, she found herself looking into a large, high-ceilinged room. The room resembled an old martial arts dojo, with hardwood floors, and what looked like a shrine on one end. Racks of swords covered the walls, with blades of every kind from every era. One whole wall held wooden swords, from European longswords to what looked like a wooden version of a Japanese katana. The side walls were covered in swords, some sheathed, others left bare. There were Civil War Sabers, long slim swords that looked like they were out a Renaissance film, crusader-esque broadswords and bladed weapons she'd never seen before in her life. There was one sword that looked as if it was mounted on staff, hanging above a matching sword and shield of what looked like bronze.

All of this Holli saw in an instant. What occupied her attention was the young man standing bare-chested in the middle of the room, swinging with almost inhuman speed. Colin stood there, long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, his double-edged longsword in one hand as he moved through what Holli guessed to be a training regimen. His muscles rippled as he moved, and Holli gasped at the number of scars crossing his body. He seemed made of muscle, without an ounce of fat on him. The sword in his hands moved in a blur as he sliced the air, attacking imaginary foes. Switching styles, Colin suddenly flipped into the air, following his lightning-quick swordwork with an incredible display of acrobatics. Suddenly, he landed, his sword held out straight in front of him, driving his sword through his invisible enemy. Now that the sword stopped moving, she got her first good look at the blade of the man who'd saved and ruined her life. It was long, probably almost as tall as she, with a long hilt half-wrapped in leather. The quillions of the guard and the end of the hilt flared out into curves, and what looked like Celtic runes ran down the length of the blade.

Colin walked down the length of the room, laying the blade into the rack at the shrine at the back of the room. Turning, he pulled a towel from a rack on the wall as he walked back across the room. Stopping five feet from her, Colin settled the towel around his neck as he stared at the much younger girl. Cocking one eyebrow, he asked "So, I guess you expect me to teach you now, don't you?"

"Wasn't that the point?" Holli glared back, still unsure how to treat this strange young man.

"Fair enough," Colin smiled, turning to the wall to his left. Grabbing two wooden swords off the wall, he tossed one to Holli, holding the other loosely at his side. Holli looked down at the sword in her hand. It was made of a white hardwood, shaped like a European broadsword, and was much smaller than the blade Colin had been practicing with a moment before.

"Let's see how you fare against someone with a thousand years experience. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Colin said, a slight smile flicking across his lips.

Suddenly, his arm whipped in a blur, the practice sword flashing straight towards Holli's neck. Panicking, Holli was just able to bring the wooden sword up to the side of her head, blocking his blow. Her arm went numb from the impact, and she was just barely able to keep from being bowled over by the blow. Seeing Colin's arm move again, she dropped, falling into a crouch, hoping to let his arm pass harmlessly over her head. Instead, she froze as the wooden sword stopped a mere centimeter from her throat.

"Good show," he smiled, dropping the point of the sword and stepping back, "You don't freeze up, which is good, and your reaction time is something an Olympic runner would kill for."

Smiling wryly, he continued, "You're obviously not trained, which makes my job that much easier, as I don't have to make you unlearn any bad habits. Okay, this time, I'll go slower, so just get a feel for swinging the sword." Making slow blows towards each other, the two struck practice blades back and forth for a few minutes before Colin called a halt.

"We've got a long time to work on this, and to find a style that suits you. In the meantime, I feel like flapjacks."

With that, the Irishman left the dojo, bowing slightly to the shrine as he left. Following suit, Holli made to leave, but the shrine beneath where he'd placed his sword caught her eye. Crossing the room, she examined the shrine, only to find that the Japanese-looking wooden shrine held a small ivory carving. Leaning in closer, she saw that it was a statue of a woman in exquisite detail, her long, slightly pale hair fanning out behind her, standing with one sword held at her side, another sheathed at her hip. Dressed in a long gown with divided skirts, the woman was amazingly beautiful, her eyes carved from small green crystals which reflected the light filtering through the room.

Looking closer at the two swords, Holli noticed that the one in her hand was a double-edged straight sword, thin and delicate, a small tassel dangling from the hilt. The other, to her surprise, was the same katana Colin had worn at his own side, the oddly shaped round guard – a small piece of what looked like iron wrought to remind one of waves swirling in a whirlpool – of the miniature identical to that on the original. Looking at the blade mounted beneath his longsword, Holli wondered who the woman had been, and what she had meant to this man, that he would carry her sword with him. Catching herself, she quickly bowed herself out of the dojo in the same way its owner had, her mind still on the small statue that stood with his swords.

* * *

Kyle rose to the sound of birds chirping loudly beyond his window. Grimacing as he sat up, he grabbed at his chest, still bound by the bandages that wrapped him. Feeling the wound pull as he stood, he gritted his teeth at the pain, and staggered towards the door. Sliding it open, he stepping gingerly through the opening into the hall, following the sounds of talking through the halls before ending up in a brightly lit kitchen, with Michael and Holli already seated at the table, Michael listening to Colin tell some story as Holli stared off down another hallway.

"So wait, _you_ knew the Pope?" asked Michael as he bit into a pancake.

"Actually, I've known three of them, but that's not important. I not only knew Pope Urban II, I went on the First Crusade for him. He was one of the few religious leaders who didn't think I was the spawn of the devil. Mostly, he was grateful that he had someone who would definitely make it through any battle to come back and report. He was a decent man as Popes go."

"I'm sure the 'not-so-decent' ones enjoyed their meeting with you," said Kyle as he sat down gingerly next to his sister. Twirling her head to face him, Holli helped him down despite his attempts to wave her off. Groaning as his wound stretched, he looked up to see Colin staring back at him.

"I actually made it a point to avoid the Popes that didn't approach me first. I was one of the Catholic Church's best kept secrets. Sort of a living history, if you will," he drawled as he gave them a mock bow, sweeping a plate piled high with pancakes onto the table as he did so. Sweeping a few onto his plate, Michael tore into the food, as if half-starved, while Holli picked at her plate, her mind obviously occupied by something else.

Pushing away the offered food, Kyle stared Colin straight on, his gaze meeting older immortal's, storm-grey eyes meeting with ice-blue ones. "I'm here for one reason: to learn how to kill the bastard that murdered my parents. And none of that would have happened without you. So as soon as Gints is dead, I'm coming to make you pay."

Colin's face went completely serious as Michael froze mid-bite, his fork hanging halfway to his mouth. Holli glanced at her brother worriedly, but he ignored her, refusing to look away from the man responsible for his parents' deaths – if not directly, then by not saving them earlier.

"We all die sometimes, boyo," Colin said as he placed pancakes on a plate and set it before Kyle, "We can't always choose when, but eventually, the old makes way for the new. But if you're planning on taking my head, you're going to need to eat something. Tuck in."

* * *

After the meal, the three followed Colin back to the dojo, waiting awkwardly as Colin bowed slightly to the shrine and its statue. Turning, Colin faced them, his brow furrowed slightly. "I've never taught more than one student at a time before. As such, I'll teach each of you a different weapon and style, so you individually will fight in ways the others won't expect. For now though, look through my armory," he said, waving his hand at the walls covered in swords, "If you want to see what a style looks like, I'll demonstrate, and if you want to try something out, find a wooden counterpart – that's what that wall is there for."

Holli stepped forward, looking along the walls, simply admiring the different weapons. Each one was unique, most likely from completely different parts of the world over a thousand years' time. Meanwhile, Michael had convinced Colin to show him a demonstration of what looked like a half-moon mounted on a hilt. Running her hand along the wall, Holli came to stop beneath one weapon in particular. The blade was delicately thin, straight and edged on both sides. The guard was small, worked in steel to twine above the user's hand, no more than a knob used to deflect sliding blades away from the wielder. A blue tassel hung from the hilt, making it a twin of the blade held by the statue.

"_That_," said Colin, "Is a Chinese straight sword."

Jumping about four feet in the air, Holli gasped in surprise as Colin appeared seemingly out of thin air. Apparently ignoring her discomfort, he took the blade down from the wall gently, his eyes tracing the sword's outline, as if remembering an old friend. Reversing it in his left hand before bringing it behind his back to swap hands, he spun the blade forwards, slowly stabbing out at an imaginary opponent, then pulling back to slice into thin air, the blade making swirls of silver and blue as the shining blade and the tassel circled each other. The curls of color twirled around him as he fell into the techniques of whatever style the sword belonged to, the movements seeming almost gentle in their grace. Stopping, Colin brought the blade back beneath his arm, and handed it hilt-first to Holli.

Taking the blade, she hefted the sharp weapon, finding it lighter than she had expected. Making an experimental swing, she heard it sing through the air as it floated – light as a feather within her hand. Holding it out for Colin to take back, she was amazed when he smiled, almost sadly, and instead pushed it back to her. "That sword fits as if it was made for you," he chuckled, "It matches your height and strength well, and it's a style that focuses less on sheer power and more on speed and fluidity. You should do well with each other."

"It's the same type as the one held by the statue, isn't it?" she asked, hoping to bring the subject around to who the woman was.

Colin froze for only a second, a brief pause as he processed her statement. "Yes, it is," he said, he voiced catching slightly. Holli looked closer at the immortal's face, watching as a ghost of pain flickered across his face, followed by a light that could only have been deep affection. _A lost love,_ she decided, _that's who the woman is._ Regaining control over his emotions, Colin continued,"It's commonly called a _Jian_. This one's from the Ming Dynasty – before the Manchus invaded – its descendants are used in Wushu, Kung Fu, and Tai Chi." Leaving to go stop Michael, who was swinging one of the wooden swords in reckless abandon, he handed her the sheath before walking off, yelling at the young man. "It's a bloody _bokken_! You don't hack with it like an ax! The momentum comes from the left hand. No! Your other left!"

Sliding the sword home, Holli smiled as she held her new-found sword before her. The hilt reflected the light through the windows, glinting off the curved steel guard. Despite its purpose, the blade was beautiful, graceful in its deadly potential. Smiling slightly, she drew the blade again, seeing her face reflected in the blade's edge. Maybe, this wasn't going to be so bad after all.


End file.
